


The Hill I Will Die On

by Aztecl



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bajorans, Character Study, Childhood Trauma, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Inspired by Music, Mild Blood, Occupation of Bajor, POV Kira Nerys, Past Child Abuse, Refugees, Resistance, Snapshots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29010483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aztecl/pseuds/Aztecl
Summary: A pair of expressionless Cardassians were carrying her starved body across the camp. Kira could feel their scales through the fabric of their uniforms, could feel the hot breath on the back of her neck past her braided hair. She closed her eyes to avoid the stares of everyone else. Pity was apparent in their hollow features and glossy eyes as they watched yet another familiar face be taken.[Or, three snapshots of Kira and the word "cell". Can be read as either Gen or Slash, although there's literally nothing suggesting romance.]
Relationships: Kira Nerys & Odo, Kira Nerys/Odo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	The Hill I Will Die On

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Star Trek or its characters. However, I did make-up two Bajoran characters in the second snapshot of this fic. (You'll see what I mean.)
> 
> The title is from an Alec Benjamin song with the same name because of these lyrics that inspired me: Some men just want to be / free from oppression and so their aggression / is worn like a badge on their sleeve.
> 
> I take this moment to apologise for any bad dialogue or OOC-ness.

The first time she's dragged away, Kira wasn't even angry. At least, she wouldn't consider it to be anger that was running through her veins, mainly because every Bajoran felt something at all times. It was a normal thing to feel and no one ever questioned its familiar presence.

A pair of expressionless Cardassians were carrying her starved body across the camp. Kira could feel their scales through the fabric of their uniforms, could feel the hot breath on the back of her neck past her braided hair. She closed her eyes to avoid the stares of everyone else. Pity was apparent in their hollow features and glossy eyes as they watched yet another familiar face be taken.

It was a small refugee camp. Every family—or what was left of one—knew those around them. Kira could even pick out the lucky children who she could remember since her first day of school. She could always picture the faces of rare Bajorans who'd survived into adulthood—ones who had known the whole Kira family from before it was a total tragedy story.

Kira wanted to keep her eyes closed and indulge in the darkness. It always sat and waited, patiently, for when the fight would temporarily run out. But her fighting spirit would always come back and split the darkness. She opened her eyes slowly, almost in a daze.

The skin on her knees broke when she was finally released and dropped onto the dirt. Without looking up, Kira knew where the Cardassians had taken her: right outside the holding cells.

She'd never been able to figure out why the camp had cells in the first place. Sure, the Cardassians liked to play with the Bajorans like they were toys, torture them and laugh along when they inevitably screamed. But it was still another mouth to feed, and making an example of someone worked better when done with an audience, when you take them out into the central camp area to set a precedent.

Kira didn't think of herself as suicidal, and yet she still lost herself in her thoughts of how she'd likely die someday. She hoped it was quick. Maybe her share of rations could help someone else, carrying them to survival. There were always optimistic whispers in the crowd from Bajorans insisting that the Occupation wouldn't last much longer. Maybe they weren't entirely delusional.

"Look at me," came a rough voice from above her.

Kira stayed silent, hoping to show one last spark of defiance. The seconds drawled by. Her bloodied knees dug into the dirt, burning uncomfortably. It took a lot of concentration to not fidget under the gaze of the Cardassian looking over her small frame.

Eventually, Kira gave in and risked a look up at him.

There was a strange thing on his face that she couldn't quite place. His features were calm, yet raging like a storm. His eyes were a piercing blue, yet carried an uncanny resemblance to a soft pastel color you'd expect in gentle rivers. Kira realized she didn't even know the Cardassian's name. That was fine by her; she didn't need nor want to have such useless information.

"Tell me," he said after a moment's pause. "Why are you here?"

"You should know the answer to that." She hated the small tremor in her voice.

"Perhaps. But I still wish to hear you say it, to confess to your petty crimes."

"Oh? So it's suddenly a crime what I did?" Kira allowed anger to replace the fear in her low tone. "I taunt _your_ people and you murder _mine_ in cold-blood, all while we starve and suffer and-and live in near despair."

She expected to be hit in the head. Maybe killed right here, her father getting the news when she didn't show before nightfall. A knot twisted in her chest at the thought.

What she didn't expect was for him to laugh.

The Cardassian threw back his head, a strangled laugh erupting from his throat. With every surge of movement, the ridges on his throat rippled and shimmered in the bright sunlight. He stopped abruptly.

"You amuse me."

"And you disgust me." Kira figured that she couldn't dig a deeper hole than the one she was already digging.

 _There_ was the slap across the face. Her head whipped to the side while thick red blood trickled out of her nose. Kira blinked the stars out of her vision and stared at the Cardassian.

"Run along and play, child. Maybe someday you can appreciate this gift of life I have given you. Most Bajorans do not survive an encounter with me or my cell block."

This time, as Kira was dragged back towards the main camp area, she felt white-hot fury bubbling like a volcanic eruption.

* * *

A few years did nothing to silence the memory. It was just another piece of timber burning among the fire blazing inside of Kira's mind. It roared and billowed, demanding to be let out in some form or another.

And now was her chance.

She'd been sitting in the corner, away from the group huddled around a map. The map was full of handwritten notes and arrows—the best routes and ideas for the upcoming ambush the Shakaar resistance cell was planning. She knew only because she had snuck a look the day before while completing yet another errand run.

The weapon in her hands was ready to go. Kira had polished it and adjusted the trigger, her hands gliding over the cool metal with the practiced ease of a soldier who'd lived in far too much violence. Although, she had never used one before. She only lingered around the resistance and did the chores no one else volunteered to do.

When nobody had noticed her finish, Kira took the opportunity and stayed behind to watch them plan out the ambush. She sat unmoving, half hidden away behind a pile of crates carrying whatever supplies they had accumulated. Kira figured she could just return the weapon to its rightful owner the next morning before the attack happened.

Lost in her thoughts, the quiet conversation on the other side of the room almost seemed to fade away. And Kira didn't even register the feeling of the weapon slipping out of her hands...

Until it hit the ground with a loud _thump_.

Everyone immediately drew whatever knives or weapons they had on them. They spun around and faced the small teenager lurking in the corner of their resistance cell. It wasn't as if Kira Nerys was unfamiliar with the group, as she was always up and about, helping their cause in any way. But some still weren't quick enough to hide the shock in their void and bloodshot eyes.

The one nearest to her had hair the color of coal, his eyes merely a softer shade and more of an ashy grey. He spoke first, "Nerys. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I thought you'd be done by now."

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Well, I pride myself on doing a decent job. It takes time."

"She's too young to be here!" Another disheveled Bajoran hissed. "What if the Cardassians have turned her into a collaborator? What it they've brainwashed her?"

The black haired Bajoran's eyes narrowed. "You know that's not true, Olnern."

Kira swallowed thickly. She remembered that his name was Zenid, and that he was just one of many leaders within the cell. He'd been recruited just over a year ago by Shakaar Edon himself.

"Okay, _maybe_ I overreacted," Olnern replied. "But I hope you can still see my point."

Kira edged closer to the group. "May I say something?"

"That I am right?" He joked with a glare from Zenid. Kira steeled herself and hoped she wouldn't be ridiculed for her next words.

"No. I would like to volunteer for the next mission."

There was a pregnant pause.

Zenid coughed and spoke, finally breaking the lingering silence that had fallen over the Bajorans. "It's dangerous, Nerys."

"And I'm aware of that," she retorted.

"Olnern is surprisingly right about one thing—that you are too young to be out and about, fighting the Cardassians with guns-a-blazing. I won't allow something to happen to you."

"Oh please." Kira snorted and took a few steps closer. Distantly, she made a note of how there were only a few meters of space between her and Zenid, Olnern hesitating behind him. "Spare me the 'you're too young to die because you have your whole life ahead of you' speech.

"The truth is that I won't have a life—a future—unless we rid Bajor and our culture of the damn Cardassians. We have a chance. And I want to be a part of grasping it into our hand. I want to be more than the errand-runner I've been for the last year or so; I want to be more involved within the Shakaar resistance cell."

A third Bajoran made a move towards Kira. She had wavy brown hair extending beyond her shoulders. A kind smile lit up her lightly dimpled cheeks, something Kira found curious considering all the horror the older woman must have seen throughout her lifetime.

"I think that she's both insane—and that she's got the heart of a sinoraptor," said the woman who Kira would later learn as Lupaza.

And the following day, as Kira sat surrounded by other Bajorans in her cell, the metaphor rang in her ears. It dimmed slightly when she bit her numb fingers in a desperate attempt to keep warm and disperse her fear. But it came back, full circle, as Kira fired on the Cardassians and their skimmer during her first official mission for the resistance. Shakaar had approved her without any doubt or hesitation.

* * *

The warm light of the Bajoran temple washed over her face and over the metal earring she wore. The metal sparkled and shimmered like it was worth its weight in pure gold—and Kira thought that fitting.

Prayers were finished for the day. Bajorans smiled and waved at each other on their way out, the crowd shuffling back towards the bustling Promenade. Every time the doors opened, dozens of conversations and background noises wafted in and tickled Kira's ears. She exhaled and made to follow the Bajorans.

Despite the years she had spent on the station—both as a rebel during the dwindling Occupation, and later as the Bajoran liaison during the aftermath of it all—Kira still found herself with a surreal sense of vertigo. Bajorans and all sorts of alien species mingled daily. They talked and worked together and somehow managed to cooperate into living amidst one another. It was a riveting thought every time it crossed her mind, when there was nothing else there to occupy her.

Kira maneuvered her way through the crowd. Her shift in Ops had finished not too long ago, and her off time had officially started. Yet, she found herself itching to be back at work again. There was something about doing nothing that bothered and ate at her tirelessly.

Instead of turning back and bullying Sisko into giving her more work, Kira found herself moving towards Odo's office.

She walked past the mixed lot of Bajorans and Starfleet personnel, pausing when she heard a familiar gruff voice grumbling from inside of Quark's bar. A smile slowly stretched across her face, grinning brightly. She didn't stay long enough to digest the words. However, Kira could assume that Quark was up to another scheme of some sort, and that Odo was investigating the matter thoroughly. The only words she heard referred to whatever the hell paragraph four of some obscure section of station regulations was forbidding.

The noise died down as she drew closer on the security chief's office. The doors opened with a fast _swoosh_ and Kira stepped in. She could still hear the chatter through the closed door, however even the slightest amount of silence allowed Kira to fade away into distantly buried memories. Moments that seemed so detached, so unreal...

Suddenly she wasn't on Deep Space Nine. She was on Terok Nor. No no no. That wasn't right, Kira hastily reminded herself. The Occupation is over, as it had been for the last few years.

Kira didn't realize she'd closed her eyes until she finally recognized the darkness closing in. Kira preferred the darkness over the chance of seeing dead Bajorans, dead Cardassians, and so much horror dancing beneath her eyelids. Her eyes fluttered open and she spotted Odo's desk and a chair sitting half pushed in behind it.

There was a padd on the desk, which Kira took in one hand. It was open to an overlay of the security holding cells. Her lips quirked up into an amused smirk when she realized they were completely empty (assuming Quark wasn't about to be arrested). Feeling only slightly surprised, Kira decided to make a detour in her original plan of waiting for Odo in his office.

The cells were still empty when she climbed down the steps. Everything was eerily still and unmoving, lifeless even. She supposed that made sense—but it was still hard not to picture her people behind those walls, slowing dying in anticipation as they awaited certain death during the Occupation. Kira could still remember both hearing and spreading news within her resistance cell, news of their friends being locked away. Then publicly executed.

The sound of quiet footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts.

"Odo," Kira greeted without turning around.

He harrumphed. "Why do you assume it's me?"

"Who else would be down here right now? Unless you've arrested Quark, you're the only one I would expect."

"Hmm," Odo grumbled. "I thought about it."

Kira laughed, the sound erupting from her throat in a vibrant tone that spilled her lips.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Nerys," he continued. "Not that I really mind."

"Oh, I was just thinking about a few things," Kira said, walking over to Odo and closing the distance between them. "And it felt—I don't know—it felt almost welcoming. Like an old friend."

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos, bookmarks, and comments are all greatly appreciated! :))


End file.
